


I've Got a Dark Alley and a Guy That Can't Take a Hint

by PunkRockPiccolo



Series: Fem!Fall Out Boy [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/F, Genderbending, Protective!pete, Slurs, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6627037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkRockPiccolo/pseuds/PunkRockPiccolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would take Andi a good ten minutes or so to pull their van around back, so what was the harm in a drink or two and some chit-chat with the people they’d just played their hearts out to?<br/>The “harm” became clear as the pleasantly buzzed bassist kicked the door to the alley open, trademark Wentz smirk plastered to her face, and caught sight of her vocalist and best friend backed against the wall of the bar, a look of terror on her face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got a Dark Alley and a Guy That Can't Take a Hint

**Author's Note:**

> Boop. Another one-shot. This one was upon request. Which, yes, by all means, request stuff. It keeps me busy.

Whoever thought that sweaty boys were worse than sweaty girls, had obviously never had Patricia Stump’s thighs and three pairs of jeans to rotate through between laundry stops.

It had to be unnatural for a girl of her size to sweat so much when she barely moved at all on stage.

If anyone should be overly sweaty it was their bassist.

Patricia had long since stopped trying to keep tabs on where Petra Wentz was during their shows. It took too much of her attention. One minute she was right beside her, her forehead resting on Patricia’s shoulder, the next minute she was up behind Andi, using the tuning pegs of her bass to tap the hi-hat.

But no, all the tan skinned girl came away from a show with was maybe a thin sheen of sweat over her tattooed torso and an energy high that would knock the energizer bunny of its fucking feet.

But after the show they’d just put on at this randomly local bar out in the middle of Bum-Fuck, Missouri, all Patricia wanted was a shower and a twenty year nap.

Her thin strawberry blonde hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks as she made her way through the crowded bar to the back door where she hoped Andi would have the van. She pulled the lip of her hat down over her eyes, avoiding eye contact with any of the patrons.

The cool air that hit Patricia’s face as she opened the heavy door to the back alley was a blessing against the stifling, humid heat of the bar.

However, the sight of the empty alley and no van made the vocalist sigh. Andi was probably still packing up or trying to coerce Jo away from fans who probably offered her a smoke. Lord could only guess where Petra had run off to.

She could turn around and go back inside with the intent to find her bandmates, or she could stay put and hope Andi remembered where they said to meet.

The idea of shuffling through all those people almost made Patricia nauseous, so she went for the latter choice.

She’d been standing against the brick wall for maybe five minutes or so when the bar door swung open and two obnoxiously drunk guys tumbled out, gripping each other’s arm and laughing loudly.

They were young, maybe Petra’s age or maybe a bit older, and had next to no sense of coordination thanks to the alcohol flowing through their systems.

The taller of the two, his black haired spiked with enough gel to drown a walrus spotted Patricia leaning against the wall and elbowed his friend in the side.

“Hey James, look what we’ve got the pleasure of running into. The pretty face to match the pretty voice from that band.”

“Well damn, Tim, you’re right.”

The guys’ southern accents were thick, thicker due to their slurring, and it made Patricia want to gag. But their band was just starting out, so “any fans were good fans”. Or so Petra had said one day as they were crammed together on the back seat while Andi and Jo fought over their worn and torn map up front.

Working up the best smile she could manage, Patricia waved lightly at them.

“Hi. I uh, hope you guys liked the show.”

Tim smirked and unsteadily approached her, coming far too close for comfort.

“Oh yeah, we loved it. But I think I like that pretty mouth of yours more.”

Oh shit…

(~~~)

Petra could laugh at how easy it was to charm free drinks out of the bartenders in this place. In fact she did, disguising it as a flirty snicker.

It would take Andi a good ten minutes or so to pull their van around back, so what was the harm in a drink or two and some chit-chat with the people they’d just played their hearts out to?

The “harm” became clear as the pleasantly buzzed bassist kicked the door to the alley open, trademark Wentz smirk plastered to her face, and caught sight of her vocalist and best friend backed against the wall of the bar, a look of terror on her face.

The smirk dropped immediately as she froze, eyes fixed on the two drunken men pressed far too close to the small girl whose eyes snapped to her own, relief and a silent plea for help washing across her face.

“Petra.”

Patricia’s voice cracked as she stuttered out her friend’s name, a clear indication of her fear and obvious non-consent to her current situation.

The two guys slowly looked over to the tan skinned girl, drunk smiles on their faces.

“Oh look,” the taller one slurred, “one more to join the party. Think her mouth works like yours does, sweetheart?”

Patricia grimaced and lowered her head in an attempt to hide even further behind her hat.

“Please, stop. I really don’t want to-“

The shorter guy loosed a loud laugh.

“She’s so cute, Tim.”

Okay, that was it.

Petra stalked her way over to the three of them with the grace of the supposed Scene Queen she was and threw her arms around Patricia, a huge, but obviously fake grin splitting her face.

“Trish-a-licous! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, babe.”

She placed a loud, wet kiss on Patricia’s cheek and turned to the drunken men.

“Who’re your friends?”

Patricia, flustered and blushing more than Petra’s ever seen gapped for a second, trying to spit some coherent answer out.

“I uh, they’re not. I mean I don’t, uh I’m not-“

“Wait,” Petra dropped her grin. “Are they bothering you?”

She settled a glare at the boys, expertly adding an undertone of venom into her voice as she addressed them.

“Are you bothering my girlfriend?”

Both of them took staggering steps back, an impressive feat with their intoxicated states.

“Whoa, uh, sorry,” the shorter one said as he held his hands up. “Didn’t know you were together.”

The taller of the two sneered. “Man, why do all the pretty girls always turn out to be dykes.”

Petra gritted her teeth and tightened her grip around Patricia as she snapped at him.

“I’d watch your fucking mouth, asshole. “

“Or what? You gonna cry?” He laughed, though his shorter friend frowned.

Petra eyed them for a second before smirking viciously.

“Or…we’ll get our other girlfriend on you. She doesn’t take to kindly to dicks like you.”

Patricia glanced at the taller girl with an incredulous look. What the fuck was she talking about?

Before the man could respond, headlights illuminated the four of them as the girl’s familiar white van pulled up.

The driver’s door opened and an exasperated Andi jumped out.

“There you are. I’ve been searching everywhere for you two. What are you doing?”

Right on time.

Petra smiled widely.

“Hey babe! These two have been bothering Trish and had the nerve to call us dykes. I think they hurt my feelings.”

She jerked her head minutely towards the men, trying to convey her message with her body language.

Andi, having had to pull Petra out of similar situations before, straightened her shoulders and strode toward the four of them.

Now, while she honestly wouldn’t hurt a fly unprovoked, Andrea Hurley was a terrifying looking woman when she wanted to be. And if Petra was being honestly, it was slightly frightening to see a pissed off Andi heading towards them.

The shorter man grabbed his friend’s arm and yanked harshly.

“Tim! Come on man! Move it!”

The taller one, Tim obviously, nearly fell on his ass as he scrambled backwards, turning to follow his friend as they bolted down the alley and around the corner.

Andi relaxed her face and shoulder, walking over to her band mates.

“Well I don’t want to know how or why you two got into this situation, but I’m tired. So get your asses in the van. We’ve got to be in Dallas by four tomorrow.”

Petra smiled genuinely at her as she ushered a still-rattled Patricia into the van.

“Thanks, Hurley.”

Jo was passed out on the bench seat, so Patricia and Petra squeezed themselves into the back.

Petra leaned against the back of the seat and stretched her arms in front of her.

“That was a great show. You’re really rocked it out there Trish.”

“Uh thanks.” Patricia responded quietly, a sort of far off look in her eyes.

“Hey, uh, Petra?”

“Yes Trishadoo.”

Patricia rolled her eyes.

“Don’t call me that. But, um. Thanks. You know for helping me out back there.”

Petra grinned and pulled the strawberry blonde into her lap.

“Always, Trish. Boys are icky and gross and have no place being near you and your cute little butt.”

The singer rolled her eyes again and scoffed.

“You’re an idiot. I still can’t believe you basically told them we were in a relationship with Andi.”

Petra chuckled and snuggled closer to the smaller girl, pulling her hat off and resting her cheek on the soft locks.

“I know. It’s totally unrealistic.” She murmured as she placed a chaste kiss to the crown of Patricia’s head.

“I don’t like sharing.”


End file.
